


Curtain Call

by kellym1410



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, Alternate Universe - Theatre, F/M, characters put on a production of Phantom of the Opera, this will be fun I promise, while going through the same story themselves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-08 23:33:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15254511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellym1410/pseuds/kellym1410
Summary: Stories move in cycles, as the players in a city theater discover during a tumultuous production of The Phantom of the Opera.





	1. Set the Stage

“Perhaps we might frighten away the ghosts of ages past with a little illumination...gentlemen!”

 

As the electric lights from the chandelier came up, the attendees of the auction, members of a generation past, faded into darkness.  In the place of the cobwebs and dust, the faded glory of the Opera Populaire became vibrant once again. The years ticked backwards, and one could suddenly see the brilliant paints on the sets, and the shadows of the intricate pulleys and gears, just barely in the wings and above the stage.  One could feel the gossamer of the freshly sewn costumes and the crushed red velvet on the seats. Laughter and singing mixed with faint white clouds as the dancers chalked their toes. The theatre came together like pieces of a puzzle, or the inner workings of a watch made by a master craftsman.

 

Underneath it all, overpowering yet also guiding everything, was the music of an organ.  Behind the instrument stood a man, so shrouded in black that he looked to a part of the shadows and stones that made up his home.  However, his gloved hands and masked eyes moved with a quickness and intensity that signified a grasp on life far greater than that of an ordinary man.  The music came to a sudden stop, for he knew the intricacies of the theatre better than any of its individual moving parts: he needed to listen, for rehearsal was about to begin.

 

\--

 

Rey looked at the posted list with a bittersweet taste in her mouth.  Truthfully, a part of her was glad to be a member of the chorus, and not a principal.  She would dance alongside Rose and she would have more opportunities to spend time with Finn, before he started dying during tech week.

 

Her train of thought was jolted off of its track when she was attacked with a hug from behind.

 

“Guess what?!” Rey turned to see Rose, a huge grin lighting up her charming features.

 

“What?” Rey’s voice rose to match her friend’s infectious joy.

 

“I got a call back, Amilyn wants me to play Meg!”

 

Rey grinned.  Their director was a smart woman: Rose was an amazing fit for the part, with her innocent eyes and voice like a nightingale's.  Right before the curtain dropped, she would hold the Phantom’s mask and look out into the house, ending the musical perfectly.

 

_ So much for having a friend in the chorus,  _ Rey thought to herself.  “I guess that makes you my inside source.  Do you know who else is in the cast?”

 

Rose pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket and looked at email.  “Here we go. Meg Giry, Rose Tico.”

 

“Oddly enough, I already knew that one,” Rey said, smiling at how her friend was still clearly walking on air from the news.

 

“Pianji, Gial Ackbar.”  Rey nodded. The man’s wide eyes and expressive face would work really well for the role, and Gial could draw plenty of laughs when he needed to.

 

“André, Threepio.  Don’t ask, it’s just what everyone calls him, and questions seem to make him nervous.  Firmin, DJ Canto. Everyone seems to like him well enough, but there’s something about him that just gives me a bad vibe, but it’s probably just a feeling.”  Rose shook her head and scrolled further down. “Madame Giry, Leia Organa.”

 

Rey’s jaw went slack at that entry.  “Seriously? She’s in charge of tech,  _ and  _ they’re having her sing too?”

 

Rose shrugged.  “She’s the one who offered, and once the idea was in Holdo’s head, she became set on it.  Besides, Leia’s Christine was legendary back when she was our age, and it’ll be nice to have that connection.”  Rose beamed at the next name. “Carlotta, Maz Kanata.”

 

The idea of Maz in the huge Primadonna costumes made Rey double over with laughter.  Maz understood comedic timing better than any other actor Rey had had ever met, and the tiny woman could shriek in a way that seemed like the noise could shatter glass.

 

“Raoul, Poe Dameron.  I just met him today, you’ll love him, he’s ridiculously handsome, and charming too!”

 

“Clearly, you’re blushing like crazy.”

 

“Shut up!”  Taking a moment to clear her head, she looked at the last two lines.  “Christine Daaé, Bazine Netal.” Rose’s usually happy face was twisted in a grimace.

 

“Something you want to share with the class?”

 

Rose shook her head.  “I shouldn’t be too quick to judge, but I just don’t think she has the right demeanor or look for the part, but she’ll probably grow into it.”  She glanced at the last entry. “The Phantom, Kylo Ren. Before you ask, I didn’t get the chance to meet him today, something about private lessons with his voice coach.  He’s supposed to be out of this world, though," she tacked on with a shrug, before looking at the time on her phone. “Go home and relax, Rey. Monday is going to roll around fast, and you want to be well rested for the first rehearsal!”

 

\--

In spite of Rose’s advice, Rey did not get back to her apartment until half past midnight, thanks to Unkar Plutt’s charming request (or order, depending on one’s own interpretation and their desire to pay rent) to pick up the graveyard shift at Niima Coffeehouse that night.  If she indulged in the fantasy that Plutt had a charitable bone in his body, she might say that her manger was doing her a favor by giving her a distraction from the events of that afternoon: her weekly “date” with Finn, and the residue of dejection that the outing left on her spirit.

 

Rey was not a particularly religious woman, but the weekly happy hour that the two of them attended without fail had become her working definition of purgatory.  The two had been close friends since before she could remember, and during their teenage years, the pair experimented with a few clumsy kisses and quiet talks about their future together.  However, as time went on, what once seemed like a brilliant plan faded into a reality that neither of them particularly wanted anymore. When Finn broke the news to her that he wanted to start seeing other people, he braced himself for her reaction.  He certainly wasn’t expecting Rey to throw her arms around his shoulders and tell him she felt the same way.

 

They resolved to remain friends, and Rey knew that would always be the case.  She couldn’t imagine a world without Finn’s lovely smile waiting to greet her.

 

What had become a thorn in Rey’s side was a feeling of emptiness whenever she watched Finn.  He had become very close with Rose, and while the two denied anything and everything, an observer with eyes, ears, or a working knowledge of human emotion could tell that something was going on there.  And Rey was overjoyed for them. When they were ready to take their relationship public, she would be the best wingwoman in the world, she would be the flower girl at their wedding if they asked her. But every time she looked at them, she felt a sense of brokeness within her.   _ They’ve found happiness, why can’t you? _

 

Rey didn’t really want to download a dating app or start bar hopping across Galactic City because she didn’t know what she wanted, what would make her happy.  She wasn’t stupid enough to think that a whirlwind romance would magically solve all of her life’s problems, but she still couldn’t deny the sense that something profound and important was missing from her world.

 

These were the thoughts that dominated Rey’s mind as she headed downstairs to collect her mail, quietly singing to herself as she went.  She spun the lock open, and went through the mailbox’s contents. Cell phone bill PAST DUE,  _ shit,  _ paycheck from Plut,  _ about time asshole,  _ Galactic City Daily,  _ don’t have time for that,  _ and—

 

“You sing beautifully.”

 

Rey whirled around to see the source of the deep voice, revealing a tall, well built man standing by the doorway to the building.  In the city lights from outside, she could make out the dark hair framing his unique features and the red scar that cut down one half of his face.  His wide, dark eyes bored into hers as he waited for her response.

 

“Thanks.  Do you usually wait down here for the music?” The part of Rey’s mind that wasn’t guided by exhaustion and bitterness was screaming that the poor bastard had just come down for a cigarette and had paid her a compliment.  He didn’t deserve her sarcasm. She sighed and attempted to look more approachable. “Are you the one who moved into 2B?” Rey had never seen who recently moved into the apartment down the hall from her, but she had detected signs of life, including the omnipresent smell of cigarette smoke by the door.

 

The man nodded.  The expression on his face remained the same throughout their conversation.

 

_ Try to be something resembling a good neighbor,  _ Rey thought as she forced herself to smile.  “I guess I’ll see you around.”

 

“You probably won’t.”  With that, the stranger turned on his heel and strode back to his apartment, the sound of the door slamming behind him shocking Rey out of her stunned silence.

  
_ That fucking asshole is definitely worthy of my sarcasm,  _ Rey decided.


	2. Cold Read

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine contemplates her life, while Rey unknowingly receives a proposal.

As she looked at her face in the mirror, Christine realized that her life was divided clearly into two acts: Before and After her father.  The first act consisted of listening to the dulcet tones of violin music that served only to inspire, weaving complex make-believe tales with Raoul, and long walks through St-Germain under a canopy of chestnut trees, where the chatter of students mixed with the sounds of the cafés that lined the boulevards.

 

The curtain had fallen the day she found her father collapsed in the kitchen of their apartment, and the second act of her life, set in the dormitories of the Opera Populaire’s ballet had begun.

 

Christine did not wish to imply, even within her own thoughts, that her life in the ballet was a dark and gloomy one.  Madame Giry treated her as a daughter, and her newfound sisterhood with Meg was her heart’s greatest treasure. However, she felt a tremendous amount of empathy for the patients at the hospital who had lost pieces of themselves, but could still feel a presence where nothing existed.  At times, she would wake up and feel her father’s presence for just a few moments, only to have a cold sort of loneliness creep in with the light of day.

 

In this sense of absence, he had arrived.

 

For the first few years, he had existed between Christine’s dreams and reality.  Occasionally, out of the corner of her eye, she could see a gloved hand, a bit of dark hair, even so far as a sliver of a pale face.  A part of her mind told her to be scared, while another told her to dismiss what she perceived as the fantasies of a grieving girl. But amongst this conflict, the deepest parts of her spirit leaned towards the presence, the way one drifts towards a fire on a cold winter’s day.

 

It was the night before her nineteenth birthday that he first spoke to her.

 

“Let me be your teacher.”  His voice came from everywhere and nowhere within her room.

 

While she certainly felt a shock, Christine also had a rush of vindication that her secret companion did indeed walk beside her.  “Who are you?” She whispered against the darkness.

 

There was a pause before the reply.  “Call me your angel, for that is what I have called myself since I first saw you.”

 

That was two months ago.  Every night since, her angel had come to teach her.  Before, Meg had often joked that Christine’s voice sounded like a rusty hinge.  Now, the ballerina was left dumbstruck whenever she heard her friend singing to herself.

 

In contrast, Madame Giry had reacted to her surrogate daughter’s new voice with a surprising amount of understanding.  Christine had not breathed a word about her teacher for fear of being chained up within an asylum, when one day, her adoptive mother placed a single white rose on the table in front of her.  “From your teacher, my sweet girl.”

 

With eyes as wide as saucers, Christine tried to stammer out some sort of denial.  “I don’t...What is—”

 

“Hush, child. You don’t need to explain to me.  But please, stay with him. I believe you both have much to learn from each other.”  With a warm, wise smile, the choreographer of the ballet left Christine, who was still clutching the rose to her chest.

 

Truthfully, Christine did not really understand her angel’s devotion to her.  She was a chorus girl, the audience would never hear her sing. That being said, her teacher’s lessons were helping her with her dancing, as could now feel every note of evey song resounding within her, as she channel all her pain and sorrow into each step.

 

_ But enough recollecting,  _ Christine thought to herself.  Rehearsal was about to begin.

 

\--

 

When one arrives at rehearsal and finds a throng of actors crew clustered together in a tight circle, it’s never good news.  As she walked towards the green room, Rey wondered what could have possibly gone wrong so early. Today was only the cold read: no props, no costumes, not even blocking, just principals reading aloud their lines so everyone could get a sense for the material.

 

As she set her bag down, Rey was intercepted by her closest friend.

 

“Hey Peanut!”  Even though Finn’s trademarked grin remained, the man looked absolutely exhausted.

 

“Hey Finn, what’s going on?”

 

His face became uncharacteristically grim.  “Maz tore a vocal chord last night.”

 

“Shit.  What happened?”

 

Finn glanced towards the cluster of actors.  “She was joking around with some of her customers at the Watering Hole and pushed her voice way too high. Holdo checked in with her and said that she’ll be completely recovered in four months, but—”

 

“That’s us out of luck.  What are we going to do for Carlotta’s part?”

 

Her friend shrugged.  “No clue. Holdo called for a company meeting in five minutes.  Come and sit with me and Rose.”

 

\--

 

“As most of you know by now, our Maz has had a bit of an injury.  I’m sure she would appreciate any well wishes that you send her way.”  Holdo’s voice rang out over the cast and crew. “However, we are now facing a dilemma as to who will play Carlotta.”

 

“Have you checked with Coruscant U’s drama department?”  The question came from a handsome man in the front row, with a head of curly black hair and a jawline that looked like it could cut glass.  If Rey had to guess, based on Rose’s description, that man was—

 

“Yes Poe, we already have.  They’re doing a production of  _ Turandot  _ over there, and they aren’t willing to part with any sopranos until that’s done.”  The director sounded exasperated all of a sudden.

 

“What does that mean for us here?”  This speaker was a pale women, with her dark hair pulled up into a tight pony tail that accentuated her severe features.   _ That must be Bazine,  _ Rey thought.  The actress’ voice took on a belligerent undertone.  “Just so you know, I have other roles that I could be focusing on.”

 

To her credit, Holdo chose not to respond to Bazine’s veiled threat.  “Everyone should go home and get some rest. In the meantime, I’ll make some calls and decide what to do going forward.”

 

As the trio of friends got up to leave, Rose turned to Rey.  “Are you free tomorrow night?”

 

“Sure, I can pick up a morning shift at the coffeehouse.  What’s up?”

 

The smaller girl gave a huge smile before speaking.  “Finn, Poe, and I are going out, and we want you to come with us.”

 

Internally, Rey sighed.  She had been suspecting that Rose was harboring some unfounded guilt for starting a relationship with Finn, and the various meetups she organized for Rey were some sort of penance.  Normally, Rey would want to sit her friend down and firmly tell her that she didn’t need to feel remorse because she had done nothing wrong. However, the part of her mind that resented the results of her solitary ways seemed to be in charge today.  “Sounds fun!”

 

Rose beamed.  “Awesome!”

 

The trio left the theatre, discussing the plethora of baked goods they would bring over to Maz to speed along her recovery.  Had Rey looked over her shoulder before leaving, she would have seen a pair of surprised, dark eyes watching her go.

 

\--

 

Once again, it was past midnight by the time Rey got back to her building.  This time, however, the cloud of cigarette smoke preceded her, and the black-haired asshole was leaning against the door.  The landlord had finally gotten around to changing the lightbulb in the entrance, giving Rey the opportunity to get a better look at the man.

 

He was, in her opinion, an absolute mess of contradictions.  His chest was broad and muscular, but his height made him look lean and athletic at the same time.  His long hair and large eyes suggested boyish charm, but his thick eyelashes and full lips added a sense of maturity to his features.  From Rey’s point of view, he was the precise opposite of Poe: while the actor she had met earlier that day met all the criteria she had ascribed to the word “attractive,” there was something about the man in front of her that demande she look twice.

 

Before Rey could sarcastically ask if he was waiting for more music, he spoke up, lifting his eyes off of the sidewalk to meet her own.

 

“You’re a part of the new Phantom production.”

 

Slightly taken aback by his factual comment, Rey narrowed her eyes.  “Fan of the local theatre, are we?” Once again, she was met with a blank stare.  “Hope you haven’t already bought your tickets, because there’s no guarantees that we’re even going to get this show off the ground.”

 

“Do you think you could be Christine?”

 

That idea made Rey throw her head back with laughter.  “Listen, I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but I’m just in the chorus.  That’s all.”

 

“Is that really what you want?”

 

Rey began to realize that if she kept talking, she would begin confessing her deepest secrets to a stranger outside her building at midnight.  Beyond that, simple pride made her want to take control of the conversation as opposed to being left by her mailbox as she was the night before.  She turned and headed up the stairs to her door, casting a last glance behind to see the man still staring at her. “I don’t think it matters what we want,” she said before shutting herself into her apartment for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed, and please comment/kudos/bookmark!!! Hopefully I'll be back within the week, but until then, Think of Me :D


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